“Have you shown them to anyone? The stones?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Well, I have. And I’d hold on to them if I were you. Such a fucking waste. I could have retired on them and you’d have been none the wiser. I should take them, that’s what I should do.”
“You did take them.”
“Christ …” He looked out at the flashing lights over by the church. “I thought they belonged to them, all right? That you were somehow involved with them. But you don’t know who they are, do you? You’ve never heard of Vardar? Or the forgotten?”
She shook her head. He ran a hand over his face. He looked tired.
“What’s your name?” Hirka asked, tucking her feet up under her legs. She felt like climbing something, but there wasn’t much to climb here. He gave her a lopsided smile. It made him seem kinder. Nice, almost. It just hadn’t been possible to see that when she’d thought he was a threat. Which he perhaps still was. Whatever the case, he certainly wasn’t a friend.
“Stefan. My name’s Stefan Barone.” He seemed surprised by his own answer. She hoped it was because it was true.
“I’m Hirka.”
“Strange name, though that doesn’t surprise me. So where are you from, Hirka?”
“Where are you from?”
He looked her up and down, as if trying to find something to help him decide whether or not to answer truthfully.
“My dad was Swedish, my mum Italian. Home can be a thousand places, as long as there are hotels or familiar faces. I’ve been to a dozen European countries in the past six months. But that means nothing to you, does it?”
“My father was from Ulvheim. I didn’t know my mother. Before I was ten, I’d seen most of Ym from a wagon, and I’ve traveled through Blindból on foot. But I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything to you either.”
Stefan laughed and rubbed his neck. He was a grown man, but there was something … lost about him. Hirka grinned, then realized it had been a long time since she’d smiled properly. The room suddenly felt warmer. She didn’t know why, but she felt her shoulders relax a little. Was there that much power in sharing names? Maybe she’d broken the ice enough to get away. Back to the blindling.
And do what? Sit around until more men show up?
“What happened to your lip?” Hirka pointed at her own lip, in case she hadn’t used the right words.
“I was born like this. And it’s not nice to stare.”
“I think it’s nice,” Hirka said. “Not to stare, I mean. Your mouth.”
Stefan laughed and fiddled with his phone again. “So let’s see if I’ve got this right: some nutjobs just tried to kidnap you. You have no idea who they are or what they want. Every single copper in York is working overtime trying to find us. An armed stranger is sitting a meter away from you. And you’re talking about my mouth?”
Hirka shrugged and stared at the floor. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t know why this is happening.”
Stefan put his phone down again and got up. He had a chain around his neck that was tucked under his jumper.
“Have you ever met anyone who was truly ill, Hirka?”
Hirka fought back a smile. She doubted Stefan had met as many sick people as she had, but she didn’t answer.
“I mean seriously ill. Someone who’s at death’s door. Imagine you saw them a year later, alive and kicking. Three years later. Thirty years.” He looked at Hirka. “Not just alive, but not a year older. What would you think?” Stefan lit another cigarette. Not that he seemed to get any pleasure out of it.
“I’ll tell you who those people were, Hirka. One of them was a career criminal nobody needs to worry about anymore. The other, I’m not sure, but it’ll come out. The third …” Stefan gave her a pleading look, as though she were making him talk. “Well, he was a man, once. Before he turned into a predator. A blood slave. He’s sick.”
Isac.
Hirka didn’t need to ask. She knew exactly who he was talking about.
“He was infected by something. Something that’s been spreading for generations. Those who know about it keep quiet, because it’s one of these things we’re not supposed to know about. Do you understand? You do what you’ve got to do, right? I’ve been hunting them since I was a teenager.”
He paced around the room. Picking things up and putting them down again, searching for the right words. “They call themselves Vardar. I followed them here, and they followed you. At first I thought you were one of them, but you’re not, are you? Still, they wanted you, and I have no idea why.” He spoke too fast for her to follow, using far too many new words.
“What’s a blood slave?” she asked.
He stopped and looked at her again. “A person who should have been dead long ago but lives because someone wants them to.”
“Who wants them to?”
“I’ve spent a lifetime trying to find out. If I knew the source, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here. The one thing I am sure of is that he isn’t human.” Stefan sat down again. “And it worries me that you’re not laughing now, or looking at me like I escaped from an institution. And what does that say about you? That you’re not afraid of such a creature?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. He gave her a confused look. It was difficult to find the words to express how backward things were here, but she tried. “I’m used to humans being the ones people fear. Not being human is a very good thing where I come from. Believe me.”
He studied her. “So if what you’re saying is true, why haven’t you told anyone?”
She shut her eyes. Easy for him to say. He was one of the lucky ones, never having to explain who or what he was. Hirka didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“You know what? I thought I’d be coming home. I thought that as soon as I got here, everyone would see that I was one of you. A child of Odin. That I’d be welcomed with open arms. That’s what I thought.”
Hirka knew she should keep quiet, but talking had sparked a fire inside her that wouldn’t go out. She couldn’t stop. She had to make him understand everything that was wrong with this world. How flawed it was.
“When I first got here, nothing made sense to me. I started walking. I walked for days. And nights. The water tasted bitter, but I drank it anyway. And even though the trees were withered, seeing them made me happy. Because I know what trees are. Something familiar. Something real. And then I saw these …” She was getting stressed now and forgetting her words. “These cars! Racing around, and I … at first, I hid. In dead forests with no animals. There was nothing to live off. So I stood at the side of the road waving my arms, but no one stopped. So I threw a rock. And then one of them stopped. A man got out, and that made me happy, because he saw me. Because now someone knew that I was here. He’ll take me to a village, I thought. Somewhere to live. Somewhere like Ravnhov. And there I’ll drink tea and tell stories about Ym every night, and …”
Hirka got up. “He grabbed me and shook me. Screamed at me in a language I didn’t understand. I bit him in the arm and ran. I came across more people and tried to explain. To tell them that I’d come through the stones, but they didn’t understand a word of what I was saying. So I started pointing at things. Asking what they were called. But it was difficult. I … I stole food.” She swallowed.
“Father Brody was the first person to actually listen. I noticed all the people going in to see him, and I thought it was some kind of seer’s hall. I followed them. Lay down on a … chair. What’s it called? A pew. And Father Brody didn’t chase me off. I was allowed to stay. He asked me the same questions every day until I started to understand. He knew a lot of people, and I told them who I was, but do you know what? It meant nothing to them! They said I didn’t even know what I was saying. That I was making things up. Some of them looked at me like I’d been hit in the head by a rock. An old lady told me straight out you can’t go around saying you’re from another world.” Hirka was talking faster and faster, gasping for breath. “I’m
not stupid. And I’m not crazy. So yes, I’ve told people who I am. Any more bright ideas?”
She picked up her bag. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I say. I’m an outsider all the same. It means nothing to them that we’re the same. That I’m human, too.”
Stefan grabbed her arm. “So you come from some Disney dreamworld, do you? A place where no one kills, steals, or lies? Is that what it’s like? Everyone’s equal where you’re from?”
She tore her arm away. “No! But where I come from, everyone knows that’s the way it is. No one pretends it’s better than it is. We have murderers and healers. Poor and rich. Here you all think you have what you need to survive, but you don’t. You’re blind, all of you. Blind …” Her voice faltered. “But at least that makes it easier to be invisible.”
He got up and Hirka took a step back. Stefan was broad and more than a head taller than her. He grabbed a lock of her hair and pulled it through his fingers.
“If invisible is what you were going for, maybe you should have picked a different color.”
“I didn’t pick it. That’s just the way it is.”
“Really? You were born with hair that red?”
“You were born with that lip. See the problem? Well, I’m leaving now. I can’t stay here. I have things to do. Can I borrow these?” Hirka pointed at a packet of cookies on the table. She was getting restless now. Feeling vulnerable. Exposed. Like the deadborn who was waiting for her.
“Be my guest. I hope you get a chance to eat them before they come after you again.” Stefan hooked his thumbs into his pockets, confident his words would make her stay.
“Let them come. Besides, you came after me first.” She shoved the cookies into her bag.
He sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve said more than I should, but I had to be sure you weren’t one of those sick creatures. Now I know you’re not, but they are hunting you. They’re not like other people. The sickness does things to them. To their heads. It’s an infection. The body tries to fight it off, but it always loses. Sooner or later. You’re not safe, Hirka.”
“I never have been. Anyway, they’re dead now.”
“More will come.”
“Then I’d better keep moving. I’m pretty good at that.”
Hirka put her boots on. Her knife was lying on the floor. She hesitated for a moment before shoving it back down into her woolly sock. She tried not to think about what she’d used it for.
“Where’s my raincoat?”
“It’s hanging in the shower,” he said. “I’d burn it if I were you. There was blood on it. That’s how they get you, you know.”
She clenched her teeth and fought down the feeling of guilt. It was what it was. She was alive because she’d killed.
She fetched the raincoat and put it on. Opened the door. It was heavier than she’d expected. Nothing was keeping her here anymore. Apart from Stefan. He clearly wasn’t without his danger, but even so, she believed him. He wasn’t out to hurt her. He hunted down people who were infected. But whereas she tried to heal, he chose to kill.
In any case, she couldn’t stay. Wherever she went, blood followed. Both in Ym and now here. Staying with Stefan would be as good as killing him.
“Thanks for your help,” she said.
“Not that it matters to me, but you’re walking to your death, girl. Do you want me to force you to stay? I can if I have to.”
“You won’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have no time for anyone else, Stefan Barone,” she said and left.
UMPIRI
Please be all right, please let him be all right.
Hirka had run all the way from the hotel. The woman behind the front desk had merely waved as she’d sped past. Hadn’t asked questions. Hadn’t come after her. Hirka kept running anyway.
It was starting to get dark. She’d gotten stuck in the snow once already. One of her boots had come off and now it was all wet inside, but she couldn’t stop. And she couldn’t go straight to the greenhouse, either. First she had to be certain that no one was following her.
She crossed the park, where the snow lay untouched. Then she circled around so she ended up back where she’d started. On the same corner. Her own tracks were the only ones she could see. Good. That meant Stefan hadn’t followed her. And no one else had either.
She ran toward the greenhouse, taking the shortest route. She was in too much of a hurry to follow the river, so she climbed over the gate and jumped down on the other side. The snow around the greenhouses was untouched as well. Fortunately. The blindling hadn’t left. And no one had found him. But someone was bound to stumble upon him sooner or later. They had to find somewhere else before morning.
Hirka slipped into the greenhouse, past all the plants, and into the section at the end.
He wasn’t there.
The raven blood had dried on the flagstones, but the blindling was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach churned. She started dragging bags of soil aside, as if he might be underneath them. Looking around, she suddenly became aware of his presence. She glanced up.
There he was. Perched on a rafter with his knees pointing in opposite directions and his arms in front of him. He cocked his head. Blinked his white eyes. Hirka set her bag down.
“Feeling better, I see,” she said dryly, not expecting a response. She felt stupid for worrying about him.
He lifted his feet up toward the roof until he was doing a handstand. There was barely an ounce of fat on his body, and she could see every single muscle at work, including some she was sure she’d never seen before. Not in ymlings or humans, in any case. The lean ones along his spine. The folds around his shoulder blades. He spun around. Slowly, as if to demonstrate that he could. Then he dropped to the ground and smiled at her.
She took a step back. He was scarily close. And there was nothing weak about him anymore. He was more nábyrn than she remembered.
She opened her bag and gave him the apple and the cookies. “You can’t walk around like that,” she said, nodding in the direction of his crotch. “Normal people don’t walk around naked.” It was good to speak her own language again, even if she wasn’t sure how much he understood. He took the food and she quickly snatched her hand away from his vile claws. She hadn’t forgotten the grip he’d had on her wrist.
He circled around her. For a moment she considered running, but then he settled onto the bags of soil and stuck his claws into the apple. The peel started to shrivel. To cave inward. Rotting before her very eyes. Hirka felt her jaw drop.
“You eat with your claws …” she whispered, then closed her mouth again so she wouldn’t look like an idiot.
“You would too, had evolution been kinder to you.”
Hirka clapped a hand over her mouth and backed away. His voice was deep and rough, but his ymish was more eloquent than hers.
“You see?” he said. “This is exactly what I mean. No control over your own body whatsoever. It’s a miracle you’re alive.” He shook what remained of the apple off his hand. “Do you have anything more nourishing?”
It was starting to dawn on her that no thanks or praise would be forthcoming. Not that she’d been expecting any. She hadn’t even expected to be standing here having a conversation. She’d been prepared to run for her life.
She walked toward him. He was incredible. “You’re one of the blind. Nábyrn.”
Something stirred in his eyes again. He got up. Loomed over her with his canines bared. His long hair brushed her face. She was rooted to the spot. Caught between fascination and fear. He hissed.
“Nábyrn? You call me deadborn? I am Naiell. I am Dreyri. I am Umpiri, blood of the first. I’ve lived through three millennia. You are born in droves, birthed by mothers who are dying before you are expelled from their bodies, and you call us deadborn? Tomorrow you’ll all be gone. What are you, if not walking corpses?”
Hirka stumbled back and ended up sitting on the flagstones. “Three millennia …”
He straightened up and surveyed his claws. “The world suddenly looks a bit different, doesn’t it? And as far as my vision is concerned, I can assure you I see better than you ever have or ever will. Blind are those who cannot see that we see.”
“Three millennia …” She gaped at him. How could that be possible?
He spread his arms wide, as if to confirm everything he’d said. Or perhaps just to let her stare her fill. It was all she could do. Stare. It felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her. So much death. Jay. Jay’s little sister, who had hardly lived at all. Gone now. And here he stood, claiming … three millennia …
She’d laughed at her musings on who he could be. The blindling who’d taken the form of a raven.
But it was him. He was exactly who she’d thought he was. The raven who couldn’t die, and here he stood. Right in front of her.
She’d run away to Ravnhov, snuck around in Mannfalla, all to elude the Raven. The Seer. And he’d been there the whole time! She’d fed him honey bread! She’d … she’d denied his existence.
She was suddenly overwhelmed with shame.
“We didn’t think … we told them you didn’t exist! You weren’t there! Why weren’t you there? The Seer doesn’t exist!”
He crouched down in front of her and cocked his head.
“Check again.”
Hirka knew she was gaping again. She lifted her hand to touch him, but then pulled it back to her chest again. Her heart started pounding. Full of anticipation. She had to do something. And soon. This changed everything.
Rime! I need to talk to Rime!
Everything they’d done, everything that had happened … And here she was, in the human world, the history of Ym standing before her. The Seer they’d thought was a lie. Images fought for space in her head. The Rite. The marks on the councillors’ robes. The sculptures. The coins. Everything.
He got up and continued hoarsely: “Of course, the problem is I’m not the only one. The raven rings have lain dormant for a thousand years, and then you come along, little Sulni, and everything changes. Umpiri have come to Ym again, and that’s a situation we cannot have. And the stones let you pass as if you were an old friend. Not exactly a good sign, you might say. The question is why you’re here, and what you intend to do,” he said, making it sound like anything but a question.
The Rot Page 9
